


sugar me sweet

by wishsociety



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishsociety/pseuds/wishsociety
Summary: The thing is, Richie was Stan’s first kiss when they were fourteen years old. Which, even four years later, makes it incredibly difficult for Stan to say no to him.





	sugar me sweet

When they’re fourteen years old, Richie Tozier is Stan’s first kiss. They’re sitting on Stan’s bedroom floor, cross-legged, half playing a game of Monopoly. Richie has a blatant disregard for the rules and has immersed himself in thousands of dollars of debt, insisting that playing his way makes it more realistic. In the midst of this declaration, he somehow circles back to the fact that he made out with some girl at the Aladdin over six months ago, an incident that he hasn’t stopped talking about since.

“Richie.” Stan groans. “I’m going to start conditioning you or something. Every time you bring it up again, you get a slap on the wrist.”

“Oh, Stanny,” He says, smirk permanently plastered across his face. “If you’re jealous, all you gotta do is say so.”

“I am not  _jealous_.” Stan insists, unsure why he feels his face heat up. “We’re just sick of it. It happened forever ago and she dumped you an hour after it happened.”

“What would you know? It’s not like any of you have ever kissed anyone.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Like you wouldn’t brag about it if you had!”

“Not all of us are bigmouths like you. Maybe I like to keep certain things to myself.”

“Yeah, right. I forgot about all the girls you run into while you’re bird watching.” Richie snorts. “I won’t believe it until I get proof.”

“How am I supposed to prove it?”

“Kiss me.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“If you’ve kissed someone before, you’ll know how. And it’s not a big deal.”

Stan adopts Richie’s mocking tone. “Oh, Richard, if you want to kiss me, all you gotta do is say so.”

“I’m just saying, if you’d kissed someone before, you’d do it. I’m just saying-”

Stan cuts him off by pressing his lips to Richie’s, hoping that he won’t call his bluff once they’re touching. Richie doesn’t say a word, though, just raises a hand to Stan’s cheek and cradles his face, uncharacteristically gentle.

In actuality, they both know it’s Stan’s first kiss, and Richie treats it as such, shy lips a stark contrast against his usual boldness, harsh words suddenly buried underneath a new (admittedly shocking) layer of tenderness. Stan thinks, maybe, that Richie is a good kisser. He doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but this seems like how it’s supposed to go.

Richie is the one to pull away, freckles dark against the blush that burns across his cheeks, and Stan manages to shrug.

“See? Not a big deal.”

They play Monopoly and it doesn’t get brought up again.

The thing is, Richie was Stan’s first kiss when they were fourteen years old. Which, even four years later, makes it incredibly difficult for Stan to say no to him.

“C’mon, they won’t even know!” Richie insists, whining through the phone. “We all want you here, and your parents are totally lame, so they’re definitely asleep.”

“No, Richie! I can’t sneak out with you guys. I don’t even have a car.”

“Well it’s a good thing that we’re sitting outside the Uris residence in Bill’s at this very moment, then, isn’t it?”

“God, I hate you.” Stan groans. “I’ll be down in a second.”

He creeps down the stairs, ducking into the backseat and squishing up next to Richie.

“Glad you could join us tonight, sweetheart.” He says, sliding an arm across Stan’s shoulders. Stan leaves it.

They play truth or dare that night, as some sort of summation of their high school experience before everyone parts ways. They have a about a month left of school to go, but it looms threatening in the distance nonetheless.

And all goes well, for the most part, until Beverly flashes Stan a mischievous grin. He takes truth, fearful of what she would suggest otherwise with that particular look on her face.

“Alright, Stan.” She says, drawing out the moment. She takes a long sip of her drink, then makes a big show of setting the cup down before she finally spits out her question. “Who was your first kiss?”

“Are you serious?” Stan asks. “That one’s not even scandalous.”

“Then tell us already.” Bill elbows him.

Stan catches Richie’s eye, trying to measure his reaction. His face is mostly blank, but Stan thinks he detects the littlest bit of a smirk behind his neutral expression.

“It was Richie.” He says, only a little embarrassed.

“What?” Bev shrieks, endlessly amused. “When?”

“We were fourteen. We were playing Monopoly. It was stupid.”

“A good kiss.” Richie interjects.

“I guess. I don’t remember much about it.” Stan lies, because even now, he can feel the ghost of Richie’s palm against his cheek.

“Bullshit.” Richie huffs. “You don’t just  _forget_  your first kiss.”

Stan shrugs. “Should’ve made it more memorable, I guess.”

This time, Stan is the one that’s smirking. Richie makes an indignant sound, but the game moves on.

Richie is the one to take him home again, idling outside of Stan’s house at four in the morning in his beat up truck. They’re the only ones left. Richie always dropped Stan off last, mumbling excuses about his house being the closest. Stan knew, deep down, that Richie just liked him best.

“Do you really not remember?” Richie asks, looking a little sheepish. “Because I never forgot. Not a second of it.”

“I was just giving you shit. Don’t worry.” Stan says, debates whether or not he wants to push forward. “That trashmouth of yours is good for one thing, at least.”

Richie takes a deep breath, gives Stan a look that he can only think to describe as bedroom eyes. “You know, that’s kind of a shame. I was thinking that maybe I’d have to remind you.”

“I mean, the memory is a little hazy.” Stan says, and his throat is so dry.

Richie cuts the engine and slides across the bench seat until their thighs are touching. His fingers fumble with Stan’s seatbelt, but he eventually gets it undone. Richie’s hands are on his hips, suddenly, and the angle’s a little awkward, but they’re kissing.

And Richie is definitely a good kisser, Stan notes now that he does have a little bit of something to compare it to. Richie’s mouth is attentive, all encompassing as he tugs Stan’s lower lip between his teeth, nudging their noses together, desperately trying to get closer.

Stan groans when Richie slips his tongue into his mouth, attempts to return the favor by sliding a hand into Richie’s hair, recalling a drunken confession when they were seventeen about liking his hair pulled. He doesn’t hesitate, just yanks, and Richie’s jaw goes slack as he whines, the kiss stopping entirely for something like a heartbeat.

In exchange, Richie tries shoving Stan down against the seat, clearly set on crawling on top of him. On the way down, Stan cracks his head against the window, and in the midst of complaining about his injury, realizes his parents’ bedroom light is on.

“Oh, man.” Stan says, sitting back up like he’s been burned. “To be continued another time, maybe, I’ve gotta deal with this. Say a prayer for me that they didn’t see us making out.”

“Will they be mad?”

“Probably not. More mad at me for sneaking out, definitely. But it’s gonna be worse if they think I was sneaking out to fuck you.”

“Godspeed, Staniel.” Richie says, returning to the driver’s seat with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. “One more for the road?”

Stan presses a quick kiss to his lips, and stumbles out of the truck.

In the end, he doesn’t get in too much trouble, just grounded for a week. More than fair punishment for sneaking out until four in the morning.

If they saw him kissing Richie, they’re kind enough not to mention it.

And, fortunately for him, the punishment doesn’t prevent Richie from sneaking  _in._

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably like ~not great~ but there's not a lot of stozier and i think that's a national tragedy  
> title from pour some sugar on me by def leppard


End file.
